I don’t usually write about things while I’m in the middle of them.
But I’m feeling a deeper sense of loss than I expected today, so I thought I’d give it a try.
This weekend, the food world is gathering in Chicago for the James Beard Awards.
Three months ago, I wasn’t even part of this world.
I had been in New York for almost a year,
but I was still figuring out whether there was a place for me in hospitality.
Whether the ideas I was pursuing were real.
Whether the people I admired would ever take me seriously.
Then something unexpected happened.
People started saying yes.
To coffee.
To dinner.
To introductions.
To conversations.
One relationship led to another.
One dinner led to another.
What started as intuition slowly became something real.
And this week, I was supposed to be in Chicago.
Not because I won an award.
Not because I earned a seat at a particular table.
But because, for the first time, I felt like I belonged in the room.
Instead, I’m in the middle of an IVF cycle that ran longer than expected.
My doctor hasn’t cleared me to travel.
So while everyone else is confirming logistics, I’m commuting to daily monitoring appointments and learning more than I ever wanted to know about follicle sizes.
I keep telling myself there will be another year.
And that’s probably true.
The thing that surprised me is how sad I feel.
Because I don’t think I’m grieving the event.
I’m grieving the dinners I was looking forward to.
The people I was hoping to see.
The introductions people generously offered to make.
The conversations that might have happened.
The serendipity.
A future that had already started becoming real in my mind.
What nobody tells you about IVF is that the tradeoffs aren’t always obvious.
They’re not just physical.
Sometimes they’re emotional.
Sometimes they’re logistical.
Sometimes they’re opportunities you were excited about.
And sometimes they’re two futures you genuinely want, arriving at the same time.
Six and a half years ago, when I moved to the United States, I wasn’t even sure I wanted children.
What I knew was that I wanted to find a partner worth building a life with.
I found him.
And now here I am, missing a weekend I genuinely wanted because of a future that only exists because I found the first thing.
Maybe that’s what feels so complicated.
I don’t regret the choice.
I don’t resent the future we’re trying to build.
But I think it’s possible to know you’re making the right choice and still feel a deep sense of loss for the thing you’re giving up.
We don’t talk about that part very much.
We celebrate the thing we chose.
We rarely talk about mourning the thing we didn’t.
I wanted both.
The weekend in Chicago.
And the future this IVF cycle is trying to create.
This week, I only get one.
And today, I’m letting myself be sad about that.
- Hungry Helen
Update: I was cleared to fly to Chicago on Monday. In the end, I got both.
